The Rise of Lubchenko by Michael Simmons

Author:Michael Simmons
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.

27

Okay. Here was the plan. But let me just make one point first—something I need to restate because it addresses the fact of us being stupid and foolish enough to try to handle all this on our own. Going to the cops was a hard thing for us. We got involved in this whole disastrous episode in my life because I stole office equipment from my father’s company, including a laptop with some important information about this smallpox deal. If we went to the cops, they’d find out I had stolen office equipment, so I (and Ruben, who was my accomplice) would get way busted.

Whatever, I say this because we started getting nervous about actually going to Lubchenko’s house and soliciting his help. Lubchenko might be fighting for the good guys (at least as far as we knew), but the fact that he was fighting anyone or anything at all didn’t really bode well for us. A lot of bad operators in his world. And Lubchenko already told us that he was a pretty single-minded guy. He didn’t let his feelings get in the way of his aspirations. In other words, if three stupid American kids started interfering with something he was working on, he’d take us out of the picture pretty quickly and wouldn’t feel too bad about it. I mean, we trusted Lubchenko. We did. He had helped us out before. But just because you trust someone doesn’t mean you don’t want to take precautions. Anyway, we came up with something of a plan. Ruben was going to stay behind and sit by the phone in the hotel room. We were going to check in every so often from our cell phone. If there was no call for two hours, Ruben would know we were in trouble. And at that point, we’d cut our losses and Ruben would go to the cops with our whole sordid story—including a detailed account of our thievery, if necessary.

“So is the plan clear?” I said to Ruben.

“How come I always have to do stuff like this?” Ruben asked.

“Would you prefer to come with us and face Lubchenko?”

“No.”

“Then count your blessings.”

Ruben grumbled something at me under his breath that I can’t imagine was very polite.

“But don’t panic if we’re a little late. We’ll call from the mobile every hour. If we’re out of contact for more than that, get help.”

“From the cops,” Ruben said.

“From the cops,” I repeated. “The local Saint-Tropez cops. Tell them we’ve been kidnapped. We’ll sort it all out later. If it’s a false alarm, we’re just three stupid kids playing around. If not, well, then, hopefully we’ll be saved.”

“And the cops will want to know how we got involved in all this,” Ruben said.

“Yes. Well, maybe. But one way or another, it’s better than getting a knife jammed in our necks.”

Anyway, that was the plan. Or, that was the precaution. The plan was to find Lubchenko and get him to help us on the Richmond thing.

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